Stay With Me
by productivelyfun
Summary: LBD Universe: In which a hungover Darcy makes Lizzie some Tea. Inspired by Tumblr Prompt: "50 Shades of Early Grey". Another fluffy Dizzie one-shot, no way related to the LBD Story line at all. Contains NO SMUT! I can't write that stuff (Sorry?) Inspired by a line from Jimmy Eat World: "Stay with me. You're the one I need. You make the hardest things seem easy ..."


William Darcy was in no way a "morning person". Much less, when the previous evening had been spent in the company of Lizzie, his younger sister, and Fitz; and which _may_ or may not have included at least three rounds of tequila slammers and one game of beer pong.

It had been an enjoyable evening, though things had started to get a bit hazy for Darcy after one shot of a lucid green spirit, which Fitz had pushed into his hand and insisted that he drink. He vaguely remembered clinking the tiny glass to Lizzie's, before throwing back the shot, ignoring the way it burned all the way down his esophagus. Whatever happened an hour or so after that shot was virtually non-existent in his memory. Whether or not that was a good thing, was still debatable …

Darcy gingerly opened his eyes, and was surprised to find himself laying on the couch in the living room, covered in the quilt from his bed, with excessive amounts of pillows surrounding him. His head was pounding from the shot (which he had later learned was absinthe) and as he rubbed his burning eyes, he was dimly aware that he forgot to take out his contacts last night.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, he threw the quilt aside, stood up, and made his way down the hallway towards the bathroom in search of his glasses. As he wandered past the guest room, Darcy remembered with a jolt that Lizzie was still somewhere in his house. He hoped Gigi had been sober enough to make sure that Lizzie had everything she needed, though judging by the faint snores coming from his sister's room, he assumed she would be in much the same state as he, when she woke up. He chuckled to himself quietly. Gigi had never been able to handle her alcohol. It was a pity he couldn't remember the later parts of the evening – it would have been fun to hold something over her head for a while, as payback for all the scheming she and Fitz had done involving him over the past few months.

Standing over the sink, Darcy removed his contacts and splashed his face with tepid water, before slipping on the pair of black-rimmed glasses he had worn the day that he and Gigi had taken Lizzie around San Francisco. Staring back at his worn reflection back in the mirror, he remembered the way that Lizzie had looked at him curiously when he had turned up in his glasses for the first time. She had been surprised to see this different side of Darcy who was more relaxed, which had made him somewhat self conscious until Gigi had showed him a photo of Lizzie looking at him in the early morning light. The expression on her face in that photo had been so different to the one he remembered from her early videos, and the way she had looked at him last night seemed to reiterate her feelings from their day in San Fransisco too. Whether or not that was from the alcohol though, Darcy didn't know.

He brushed his teeth and retrieved some Advil from the medicine cabinet. After swallowing two with a large glass of water, he quietly made his way back towards the kitchen in search of coffee. There was no way he he would be able to stomach food right now, but a large cup of strong coffee should alleviate some of the throbbing and fogginess in his head. Darcy squinted at the sunlight that poured in through the large French doors in the kitchen, and flipped on the coffee machine. He peered into the grinder, and sighed upon finding it empty. Gigi had a terrible habit of using the last of the beans and never bothering to fill it up afterwards. He pulled open the cupboard and went to pull out the black bag of coffee beans, but stopped upon noticing about half a dozen small orange boxes lined up bedside the coffee.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, he read the label on one of the boxes. _Earl Grey. _Evidently, the orange boxes contained tea leaves. Did he really need six boxes of earl grey tea though? He pushed one of the boxes aside before reading another label, which was a slightly different hue. _Lady Grey. _He pulled the box down off the shelf and scanned the labels on the other boxes. _French Earl Grey. Russian Earl Grey. _Even _Girlie Grey._

There were 50 shades of Earl Grey taking up residency next to his coffee beans, and all William Darcy could do was stare at the little orange boxes in confusion. He and Gigi liked tea as much as anyone else, but not enough to warrant six new boxes of tea, in addition to the various other flavours Gigi already had stashed around the kitchen. He carefully placed the boxes back on the shelf and closed the cupboard doors.

"Hey," a soft voice sounded from behind him. He turned around to find Lizzie leaning against the door frame, in a pair of black yoga pants and one of his hoodies. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and tendrils of hair curled softly around her face. The sight of her standing there, wearing a piece of his clothing was enough to make his head start spinning again, and he took a sharp breath before finally responding.

"Good morning," he replied, his voice husky.

"How'd you pull up this morning?" Lizzie asked, with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Darcy shrugged; a small smile forming on his lips.

"A lot better than how Gigi will be, once she wakes up."

Lizzie laughed, and pulled the sleeves of the hoodie down over her hands before crossing her arms over her chest. His breath caught in his throat, and he busied himself pouring the coffee beans into the grinder.

"Your sister drinks like a fish. Must be a Darcy family thing," she said, still smiling.

Darcy felt the colour rise to his cheeks, but didn't reply. He wished feverently that he could remember what happened the previous evening. He hoped Gigi didn't say or do anything that might have made Lizzie feel uncomfortable. Most of all, he hoped **_he_** hadn't said or done anything that might have put their fragile friendship in jeaprody. Though the very fact that she stood here talking to him, wrapped in one of his sweaters would indicate that if he had, it couldn't have been that bad.

"Coffee?" he finally asked.

"Uh, tea?" she replied hopefully.

Of course. He vaguely remembered hopping in a cab with Fitz last night as they went to pick up more mixers and snacks. Knowing that there would be a good chance Lizzie would have to stay, and that she usually drank Earl Grey tea, he had quickly picked up a few different flavours to ensure there was something that she liked. After seeing the amount of tea he bought, it was no wonder Fitz had given him a strange look. Thankfully, his friend was kind enough to not say anything about it.

Darcy motioned to the cupboard beside him.

"Take your pick," he said simply.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and wandered over to the cupboard, studying the small boxes of tea curiously. She stood on the tips of the her toes, and plucked out one of the boxes.

"Call me old fashioned, but I think I'll stick with the traditional Earl Grey leaves," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "There's something about _Girlie Grey _that doesn't sound quite right."

"As you wish," Darcy replied, chuckling.

He finished making his coffee and set it aside, before pulling out a fine china cup and a tea infuser. Lizzie studied his movements carefully as he spooned tea leaves into the metal infuser. Despite his obvious hangover, Darcy's movements were fluid, and efficient, though his eyes were bloodshot behind his thick framed glasses. His hair was mussed and his face was pale. He needed something in his stomach soon before the hangover took complete hold of him. Nonetheless, he put all of that aside, and continued making Lizzie some tea.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had to borrow one of your hoodies. It got kind of cold during the night."

"Not at all," Darcy replied, "I'm sorry Gigi didn't give you enough blankets."

Lizzie grinned.

"You don't remember anything from last night, do you?"

"Of course I do," he replied, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and his eyelids fluttered nervously behind the frames of his glasses.

"Really?"

Darcy sighed.

"Alright," he confessed, "I remember everything prior to the shot of absinthe that Fitz forced upon me."

"The first shot, or the second?" Lizzie asked, still grinning.

"There was more than one?"

At that comment, Lizzie let out a chortle of laugher, and clapped her hands together in amusement.

"All I have to say to you, William Darcy, is that you are very entertaining after three shots of tequila and absinthe."

It was hard to tell if the fluttering in his stomach was from all the alcohol he had consumed, or whether it was because of the way his name had rolled off Lizzie's tongue. She had never used his full name before – at least, not without speaking it in a mocking tone.

"That probably explains the chronic pounding in my head right now then," he mumbled.

He winced slightly, and rubbed his forehead, praying that the advil would kick in soon and alleviate the fogginess that surrounded his brain. Darcy rarely drank, let alone in excessive quantities, but they had all been having too much fun last night, and he had enjoyed having a reason to clink his shot glass to Lizzie's, and watch her expression after swallowing the alcohol.

He steamed some milk, and wracked his brains, trying desperately to recount the events from last night. He remembered only slivers of moments throughout the evening – the way Lizzie had flicked her hair off her shoulders, the smell of her perfume, and the way that her eyes had glittered every time she won a point in beer pong. He remembered the look in her eyes after she downed the shot of absinthe, and the way that she and Gigi had danced to Fitz's playlist while he had been refilling their drinks.

Oh yes, he remembered a lot of about Lizzie, but very little about himself or his actions. Or anyone else's for that matter … His head was filled with nothing but Lizzie, and although he loathed having large chunks of his evening missing from his memory, at least the spaces were filled with more pleasant subjects.

He poured some milk into her tea cup and watched as it swirled into the dark liquid. He added in some vanilla, and some honey before finally topping it with cinnamon and sliding the cup towards her across the table.

"What's this?" she asked skeptically, shaking her hands out of the long sleeves of his hoodie, and picking up the tea cup. She gave is a suspicious sniff before taking a small sip.

"It's called Earl Grey Fog," he replied, shrugging. "I thought you might like it."

"Couldn't have just poured some hot water over the tea leaves, could you?" she joked, before setting the tea cup back down on the table gently. "But you're right, it is pretty good."

He smiled at her, before picking up his coffee up and taking a sip. It was lukewarm, but Darcy didn't care. His attention was focused on Lizzie, sitting before him in his hoodie, stirring extra honey into her tea and pushing the loose strands of hair out of her eyes.

"I apologise if I was … out of line at any point last night," Darcy said awkwardly, "I don't recall much of the latter half of the evening."

Lizzie took another sip of her tea before settling back in the chair; warming her hands on the tea cup that she still had clasped in her hands.

"You don't have to apologise for anything," she said quickly, "You were … very kind. Fortunately, for you, I can't hold anything from last night against you. Your sister, on the other hand …"

Darcy chuckled, and thought of his little sister still fast asleep in her room down the hallway. Hopefully Fitz would be in better shape than he and Gigi - perhaps he could provide some clarity into the events that happened last night.

"Basically, you wouldn't let me leave last night," Lizzie said, blushing furiously, "You insisted that I stay since it was so late, and that since Fitz was already passed out in the guest room that I stay in your room."

"Which you tried to argue with me about that, I assume?"

"Naturally," she replied, "But you wouldn't take no for an answer. It was really kind of you to give up your room for me. And you were right, your bed _is_ very comfortable."

Darcy took another sip of his coffee, and leaned back against the counter, watching Lizzie tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and fiddling with her tea cup nervously.

"I bought you out your quilt though when I came to get a glass of water, since you'd literally just fallen asleep on the couch. It was the least I could do considering I took your room. I didn't want you freezing to death just because of me."

He smiled gently at her, and swirled the last of his coffee around the bottom of his cup.

"Thank you," Darcy said softly, vaguely remembering someone pulling the quilt up over his shoulders.

"You mumbled something that I couldn't quite catch though," Lizzie said, "So again, you're lucky that I don't have anything to use against you in the future."

She looked up from her cup and grinned at him playfully. They let the silence in the room envelope them for a few moments; Lizzie sipping at her tea and Darcy making himself another cup of coffee. Once he held the cup of dark liquid in his hands, he cleared his throat and spoke, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

"I said 'don't go'," he confessed quickly. "When you bought me the quilt. That's ... That's what I said."

Lizzie raised her eyes, and studied his face carefully. His clear blue eyes looked back at her, searching to find a reaction to the words he had just uttered, but Lizzie was completely speechless.

'Why?" She managed to squeeze out, "Why didn't you want me to leave?"

Darcy placed his mug down on the counter and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair in an attempt to buy himself some more time, before answering carefully.

"Because then the night would have been over. We would have to revert back to the norm, where we rarely have a chance to converse without the presence of at least one other person in the room. But as it were, you didn't hear me, which perhaps was a good thing since I clearly had no control over my mouth last night."

"Do you ever say anything in simple English?" Lizzie asked.

"Alright then," he replied gruffly, "I am still hopelessly in love with you, Lizzie. There's not too much more to it than that. I enjoy having you in my house, and also seeing you in my clothing. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way, which is why I won't broach the subject again. Just know that is how I still feel."

Lizzie abandoned her tea cup, stood up and suddenly walked over to where Darcy was standing. She stood before him, fidgeting with her hands, and met his eyes squarely with her own.

"What if I want to talk about it?" She whispered. "What if … the way I feel about you … What if that's changed?"

Darcy eyebrows flew up in surprise. Now he was the one who was speechless, and he searched desperately for something to say back to Lizzie. He had wanted to hear her utter those words for months now and when she finally did, he couldn't find any thing to offer her in return. There were no amount of words that could adequately convey the thoughts and feelings running through him right now.

Throwing caution to the wind, he bent down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Lizzie stood on her the tips of her toes, and wrapped her arms around his neck before returning his kiss fervently. Darcy lost himself in the warmth of her touch, and the scent of her perfume; hardly able to believe that after all this time he was finally kissing Lizzie. He could taste the honey on her lips, and he knew in this moment, that this was the way it was always supposed to between them.

Lizzie completed him in every sense. When he couldn't find the words to say, she could. When he felt like he was going to snap under the pressure of everything life had been throwing at him, Lizzie seemed to calm him. When Lizzie was irrational, he was her voice of reason. On this level, they understood each other perfectly - they didn't need words.

He reluctantly pulled himself away from her lips, and rested his forehead against hers before speaking in a quiet, and husky voice.

"Don't go, Lizzie," he said, "Not now. Not ever. Just stay with me."

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied, grinning.

Lizzie gently placed a hand on the side of his face, before pulling him in closer. He lost himself in her kiss once again, feeling a different kind of intoxication - One that he would want to experience every day for as long as he could. They were always meant to be; he supposed they just had to wait for the right time. He wouldn't rush things with Lizzie though. They both deserved more than that, and now they had all the time in the world to be with one another.

Picking up both of their cups, Darcy led Lizzie into the living room where they sat on the couch, listening to the random collection of songs that was on Fitz's playlist from the previous evening. He spread the quilt over the two of them, but Lizzie curled up against his side anyway. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he sipped at his coffee, with a relaxed and content expression on his face.

"Thanks for all the different kinds of tea, by the way," Lizzie said cheekily. "Seems like I've got a lot of different flavours to work my way through."

Darcy smiled down at her, admiring the way her jade coloured eyes sparkled whenever she stirred him up.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not going anywhere then," he said before kissing her forehead.

"No," she replied happily, "I'm not. Not now. Not ever."


End file.
